Football doesn't make me want to have another baby

When I was 9 months pregnant, we could obviously not travel via aircraft, so it was the first holiday season I had not spent at home in Seattle with my family. Ever. I decided to do some volunteering on Christmas Eve to help me refrain from being a pissy pants I mean baby keep things in perspective.

Later, JohnnyMac and his Dad, season ticket holders to the Atlanta Falcons, invited me to join them at that evening's home game. As I nestled that tummy of mine, the baby hotel, I had warm thoughts about not only attending previous football games with my Father, but sparkly thoughts about our little child going to football games with Daddy and GMac (Grandpa) in the future.

Club level seats: love it. As we situated ourselves in for a highly anticipated game, each time the crowd roared that little person hibernating in me (we didn't know MiniMac was a boy) would literally go wild. Ahhh...a budding sports fan: LOVE IT!

As the game proceeded, my Hub and his Dad were apparently OH SO VERY parched. I am certain yet another 32 ounce draft will quench that thirst gentlemen. At one point, GMac was doing shots with his friend on the other side of us, who conveniently packed his flask just for the occasion. And for some reason, JohnnyMac wasn't pleased with the Falcons level of play. And decided to talk about it. Which is a side of him I had never seen before. So about every 18 seconds when the Falcons had possession, he would yell out "RUN THE BALL".

After the 10th time, this begin to sound like a fire alarm in my ear. I patted my tummy and said, "Baby, trust me...you NEVER have to come to the games with Daddy and GMac."

My sense of humor only buoyed further as we left the game. I told JohnnyMac I would drive. He told me he was fine to drive. To which I said, "If you want to kill your wife and unborn baby, sure." He wanted to momentarily argue. Why I don't know. But then he tripped. Over a twig. Or maybe off a the 4 inch high curb. Again, seeing many layers to JohnnyMac I had not seen before. Who's navigating us home? End of discussion. After we got home and his Father left, JohnnyMac had in his mind that a fun post-game endeavor would be a "no-pants party".

"No pants-party" is the same party JohnnyMac and I hosted one weekend in NYC. The same party, we as the sole invitees, not only attended but also from which we brought home the ultimate souvenir: MiniMac.

You know what's hot? When your Hub still wants your body even 9 months pregnant.

You know what is NOT hot? Watching same Hub yell RUN THE BALL on a continuous loop for basically three hours. Oh, I mean on a continuous loop stopping only to take additional sips of his barley and hops. And then offer to drive you home. And then trip on a curb. Oh, I love him, I do. But for that day, and potentially some others in the future with several parallels, football doesn't make me want to have another baby. Or even practice.